Faded
by Laffy-Taffy0401
Summary: They were all broken, searching for a fix. "When I'm faded, I forget. I forget what you mean to me." Rated M for Smut, Drugs, Alcohol, Violence, Dark Themes...read at your own risk.
1. Drunk

**Rated M for alcohol use (sorta) and smut. yes. you read right. SMUT.**

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**DRUNK**

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He wakes up, disoriented, with a bitter taste in his mouth. His vision is blurry for a moment as he stares up at the ceiling. His eyes trace the cracks that he's already got memorized.

It isn't his place. It's the hotel suite he's rented every night for a while now.

"You're up," a soft voice says. Its music to his ears. But it's not the voice he wanted to hear. He tears his golden eyes away from the ceiling and glances at the girl who's standing by the doorway.

Her hair is in perfect tendrils, cascading around her shoulders. Her long legs are smooth and creamy; going on for miles.

All she has on is his shirt. She looked perfect despite the oversized shirt and the bruises forming along her neckline.

He lets out a half assed smile that doesn't quite touch his eyes.

Of course, she doesn't notice. None of them ever did before, so why should this day and this girl be any different?

But he doesn't dwell on this though. He doesn't like dwelling.

He sits up, letting the sheets circle around his hips. She comes forward, crawling on to the bed, reaching for his shoulders and then straddling him.

On instinct, his hands steady her.

She runs a soft hand through his messy hair. He closes his eyes, enjoying the touch; basking in the feel – But desperately wishing it was someone else touching him. Weaving their hand into his pale hair; stroking away the mess.

She giggles lightly, and it bring him out of a trance. She's bending down to kiss his lips and he smiles into it. He's forgotten she wasn't who he wanted. He's forgotten that by tomorrow, in her place would be another girl. Another replacement.

His hands move to cup her face, pulling her further into the kiss. Further into a promise he couldn't keep for her. Further into something she – _they all_ – wanted, but he couldn't give them.

She pulls away, staring into his eyes. And he stares right back. But they weren't the emerald green he needed to see. His face has fallen as he catches himself. But she doesn't notice.

None of them ever do.

"You taste like Whiskey," she murmurs as her fingers play with his hair.

"You taste like strawberries," he replies truthfully.

She grins and it's contagious. "Who would have though? Strawberry and Whiskey."

He knew what she was implying. That they were an odd pair. But they _weren't_; a pair, that is. He could never let that happen.

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ears, completely ignoring her last statement, "Wouldn't your friends wonder where you are?"

She scrunches up her nose and maybe he found it cute at one point.

On a different face.

"They can wait a while longer…" she whispers cheekily as she pushes him down by his shoulders.

He falls back without a protest, his head hitting against the pillow, his eyes finding its way back to the ceiling as she worked her way down his naked torso.

She led a trail of kisses down to his boxers.

If he closed his eyes – if he didn't stare at her at all – he can convince himself that she was someone else.

His eyes fluttered shut as she played with him. She was tentative at first, but his groans gave her a boost in confidence, as her moves got bolder.

She was different, he noted, from last night. But then again, she was drunk last night. And so was he. As he's been every night for the past month or so.

His hands move to weave into her hair as she opens her mouth and guides him in.

He doesn't lead her, he just rests his hand in her hair, letting her do what she wanted. His eyes were still shut, but he can feel her eyes gaze up at him, willing him to look at her.

He bites his lips as he feels her mouth working against him.

He groans as her hands start to stroke him.

His hand kneads into her hair tighter. His hips buck uncontrollably. She knows he's close, but she doesn't pull back. She grips on to his legs as his fluid shoots into her mouth.

She didn't know what to expect. The taste wasn't appealing, but she swallowed anyway. Though he wasn't even looking at her, so she had no one to impress.

She skims her mouth up his happy trail, trying in vain to get him to notice her. To get him to believe she's not like the other girls. That maybe, she could be _his_ girl. Not just _one_ of his girls.

Then his eyes shoot open as her tongue circles his nipple. "Jesus," he whispers huskily. He doesn't think any girl had ever done that.

He wasn't sure weather it was weird or arousing. She bites down on his nipple, causing him to squirm beneath her.

She moves up to his mouth. Her tongue darts out of her mouth before their lips even touch.

Her body is sliding against his, her shirt riding up.

For a moment, he's still. His hands are immobile and his eyes are wide open, kissing her back lazily.

Then his eyes shut and her lips feel as any other lip he's felt before. Even the one lips he wanted at that moment – at any moment really.

His hands moved to hold her. He slides them up her thighs, hiking the shirt up her naked skin.

Her body moves in wave like motions against him. She grazes her center over him, loving the feel.

He moans into her mouth as his nails scratch her skin.

She slips a hand down between the two of them, gripping him firmly and guiding him into her warm entrance. Her lips pull away from his and her mouth opens in a gasp as he slides further into her. Her head drops to the side, in between the crook of his neck. Her breathing is labored and kissing his skin at every puff.

Her hips move slightly in an almost gyrating motion. She's going slow and he doesn't remember feeling this good in a while.

And then he realizes she's making love. His hips are reaching hers at every thrust and he realizes they _both_ were making love.

And it killed him.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't lead her on. He didn't want to lead her on.

His hands grip at her waist and in one swift movement, without breaking any contact, he flips them both over.

She squeals, a bit delighted that he was finally doing something, that he was finally taking notice in her. Little did she know, she was still a face in the crowd to him.

He pulls all the way out just to fill into her again. She gasps out feeling blissful. He thrusts against her harder, pulling her legs tightly around him. They lock behind his back as his pace goes quicker.

She moans out his name in a raspy voice and it annoys him. It wasn't the voice he wanted to hear. It's been so long since he's had sober sex and all he's doing is wishing this girl was someone else. Someone he couldn't have anymore.

He found himself wanting to be drunk again.

If he was drunk, he wouldn't be thinking this hard.

He wouldn't be thinking about another girl so hard.

She screams out his name this time, and his attention is back to her. She's reaching down a hand between them, moving her fingers around herself. She's close to her release and he just wants this to be over.

He shuts his eyes and continues pounding into her even after her climax. He feels his own release coming and he pulls out of her, collapsing on top of her as his load shoots out between them two.

His head rests beside hers and he whispers out a name. A name he forced himself not to say for so long. A name that wasn't hers.

If she heard him, she didn't say anything or acknowledge it. It's not long until he drifts off to sleep. She pushes him off gently, feeling used. But what did she expect? He was a Jace Lightwood, she was just…A replacement – among so many others.

She scribbled something down on a paper and placed it next to him. She got dressed quickly and quietly.

It's moments later when he wakes up alone on the bed.

There's a note thanking him for the night and morning. Telling him that he deserves to be happy. That he should find Clary and try his best to take her back and fix whatever mess happened between them two.

He stares at it for a while before ripping it into pieces and tossing on jeans and a shirt.

He was ready to get drunk again.

To forget about Clary.

To feel numb.

To find another girl to replace her.

To feel just a little loved.

* * *

**OMG**

**Guess whose back**

**Lol got my inspiration for this from the ginger jesus himself, Ed Sheeran. His song, Drunk. Listen to it. **

**And no, I haven't abandoned pink plus sign. Just needed to be away from it for a while. I was getting real sick of it.**

**But hopefully I'll update it soon**

**So did you like this? It was EXTREMELY different than anything I ever wrote before.**

**This is a ONE SHOT. So no sequels or next chapters!**

**Who is Jace with? I don't know. Anyone you want. Why did they break up? I don't know. Any reason you want.**

**Also, I'm sorry if I don't reply, my email is acting up, so I don't really know what stories get new reviews or anything, but I'll try my best to reply!**

**Love you all! =)**


	2. The A Team

**THE A TEAM**

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It's dark. Little splashes of rain hit the glistening sidewalk. It's been hours since he's left the hotel. He planned on getting wasted again, but he found himself somber and sober.

He stared up at the night sky for a moment before pulling his hood over his head and placing ear buds into his ears, letting soft music play through, though he barely listened to the words.

He pulled his sleeves down, tugging them over his fingers, trying to keep himself warm.

As he breaths out, white fog spills out of his mouth and nostrils. The light changes, but as soon as his feet leave the sidewalk. He spots her.

The same girl that he refused to think about.

The same girl that left him broken as much as he left her broken.

He feels deluded. Almost intoxicated. But that was impossible – he didn't touch a single beverage since the night before.

He has the urge to run to her and simultaneously run _away_ from her. But it's too late; she had already spotted him.

He tugs his sleeves up, suddenly feeling warm and clammy.

He's walking closer and closer to her, surprised that she wasn't running away.

She's standing on the corner of the block, leaning her back against a glass window of a convenient store. The window is stacked with paper upon paper from the inside, making deals and sales known.

He lets out a soft sigh, letting a puff of hot air out. He finally focuses on her instead of the crappy Deli.

His heart tugged. He can't remember the last time he's seen her – but that's a lie. He remembered it all to clearly.

His eyes take her in and it hurts to see how much she's changed.

Despite the cold, wet weather, she had on shorts that looked ripped at the edges. Fishnet stockings, ripped and frayed hugged her pale legs. She looked taller than he remembered, but then he realized she was wearing high heels that she never could have walked in before.

A cropped leather jacket, that he would recognize anywhere, was thrown over a white shirt that barely covered her skin.

He hadn't realized he was walking _to_ her until she was directly in front of him. He searched her face, not sure what to say.

From the dim light of the deli that peaked out through rips and cracks of the papers taped to the window, he saw her.

_Really_ saw her.

Her lips were white, her face pale. There were dark, hollow circles under her eyes. Mascara coated her lashes and trailed lightly down her face, but it was barely noticeable – just tear marks that were dried onto her face in soft smudges.

"Twenty for a job, forty for a ride." Her voice is cracked and raspy. Her voice, which was dilated to the point of barely any green showing, stared anywhere but his face.

He blinked at her until he finally caught what she was offering. He shook his head, pulling the ear buds out, "Clary…" He says her name in a whisper, "Don't do this…" He voice is barely audible.

If she heard him, she didn't show it.

She tears her eyes away from the streetlight, the glowing hurting her already delicate eyes, and pushes her self away from the window.

She moves closer to Jace. She finally stares him, all her reservations gone more so than they already were.

She's a breath away from him, and though she's in heels, she still has to tilt her head to him.

She touches his face gingerly, as if he's a dream and she's forcing herself to savor this moment – not devour it like she so badly wanted to.

He swallows a lump n his throat, closing his eyes, living in a split second of bliss. Ignoring the fact that they haven't seen each other in months. Ignoring the fact that they weren't the same anymore. That they both ended up…_wrecked_.

He lets her trace his stubbly face, trailing down his jaw, glazing her finger along his bottom lip.

Her eyes seem to refocus, slowly diluting.

They stood there, ignorant, remembering the last time they were happy with each other – when they were eighteen and joked about running away.

As he looks at her, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, there's traces of the girl he fell in love with. The girl he's _still_ in love with.

A honk sounds and it snaps them both out of their traces. As if he was fire, she snatched her hand back.

He had burned her.

She blinks before licking her lips and clearing her throat, "Take it or leave it, Jace. I have other costumers."

He'd momentarily confused and when he doesn't say anything, she pushes past him, but not before slipping something into his pocket.

His eyes followed her as she walked to the car that had just honked. As she saunters, he can't help but notice the tremble from her body.

Was she cold?

Nervous?

Was it the heels?

The drugs?

He guessed that he'd probably never know.

The driver's window of the car rolled down revealing an older man in a business suit.

They exchanged a few words. He looked at her like she was prey. She smiled falsely, not seeming to care or notice. He nodded to the passenger side. She walked over, pulling the door open. She slides in, glancing over her shoulders to Jace. Her eyes flashed an almost guilty pleading look, but she masked it well and shut the door.

Was it cry for help? Or did he read her wrong and this was the last goodbye?

He sipped his hands into his pocket as he watched the car drive away.

He pulls out the paper, and it looked like it had an address on it. The rain was pouring harder, smearing the writing even more.

He stared off into the night, catching the fading headlights. He looked back at the paper, crumpling it and tossing it on the ground.

* * *

**I lied. It isn't a one shot.**

**And i changed the title from Drunk to Faded. It seemed more fitting for both Jace AND Clary so...**

**I have no idea where this is going... but it feels like a story I should tell despite the adult themes... and randomness. You'll be confused(But not as confused as THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES! omg who remembers that?). Trust me, Im confused myself. Like I said, I have no clue where this is going...**

**The A Team by Ed Sheeran (the soulful ginger) inspired this chapter (CHECK IT!)**

**feedback?**

**I love you!**

**And Pink Plus Sign is on Hiatus! It's time I admit I'm having writers block! but it will be up! and I will finish it!**

**=)**


	3. Breakeven

**BREAKEVEN**

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The rain is pouring harder now. The hoodie he has on isn't doing much to keep him dry. He's soaking wet and he can feel the water dripping down his bod after seeping through the thick layer of cotton.

He turns in the opposite direction that the way the car was going. He tried not to look back as he shoved his hands into his pockets, searching for his phone.

His heart is pounding furiously in his chest and his body is shaking. He knows it has nothing to do with the weather.

That was Clary. That was the girl he tried so desperately to forget as he swallowed his drink without tasting it.

And after months of shutting any thoughts of her out, it all came rushing back; colliding and unfolding his memories in mere minutes.

He admitted: he pictured – more than a thousand scenarios – of meeting her again. Hell, he _hoped_ they would happen and thing would be perfect.

But never would he ever picture meeting her randomly on a corner. He would have never suspected their reunion to go like this. To be: her offering something, that never in a million years, would she have offered a few months ago.

After seeing her, he wasn't expecting her to memorize him. To savor him, memorize him – to barely reminisce – just to leave in a stranger's car.

A boom of thunder sounds seconds after a flash of lightning illuminates the night sky in an electrifying blue.

As he looked up, he can't help but feel as if it left an imprint on the sky, though no one could see it.

It was there. But it had left.

But the sky will always remember – and maybe that's why lightning never strike at the same place twice.

He shuts his eyes, breathing deeply as he stops at a red stoplight. He takes cover under the shades of a nearby store, pulling out his phone and dialing a number he had memorized.

He couldn't be bothered to search through his contacts or recent history. Typing out the numbers kept him distracted, though only for a while.

He placed the device to his ears. It rang once or twice until he picked up.

Jace gave him the street corner he was on, not bothering to explain anything. He didn't have to. In spite of all the drinking and hooking up Jace had done, not once did Alec ask him to explain his behavior. He knew Jace would come to terms with it, and it would catch up to him either way.

Alec wasn't one to argue or fight, but if Jace ever needed someone, Alec was there for him.

After hanging up, Jace's mind wonders to Clary. To the last conversation – argument – they had before this night. Then to before that to when things were good.

A honk sounds and a shiny black car pulls up on the curb. He's too lost in thought though. Too busy thinking how different things could have been if he hadn't decided to be sober.

Would he still have met up with Clary somehow? Would he have accepted her offers before? Or would he be on the other side of town, buried deep inside a girl he just picked up?

Another honk emits from the car and it sends him out of his reverie.

He shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts, trying to forget.

But there was only one way he knew how too. And that was drinking.

The car door is unlocked.

Alec smiles when Jace slides in the passenger seat. A month ago, Jace would have found it odd and a tad eerie.

Why would someone smile happily while picking up their alcoholic friend from a place where men drove around to find hookers?

But as Jace peered over to his friend, from the blood shot color in his eyes, he knew Alec was lit.

"Ready to party Blondie?" He asks as he drives down the avenue. Jace raised an eye at the nickname, but refrains from saying anything. Alec's ex had given Jace that name. Jace wasn't quite sure if Alec had forgotten or was too high to even care.

Jace didn't answer the question. He didn't want to go to a party, but he didn't want to ruin his best friend's night, being as he already was stuck dragging Jace along with him.

The ride is filled with music from the nineties and Alec's verbal diarrhea.

Despite the people loitering out in the rain with cups in their hands, Jace didn't realize they had met their destination until Alec parked the car and grabbed Jace form the passenger side, and leading him to the house.

The music was a more upbeat, modern, and dance in-tuned than the one that was spewing out the radio of the car.

The number on the door looked familiar to Jace, but he didn't think much of it as Alec pushed it open, letting a puff of smoke waft out.

The lighting in the house is dim and the smell was horrific. Somewhere along the crowd, he had lost Alec.

Someone offered him a blunt. He refused, earning him the accusation if him being a pussy. But he didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to.

He pushed past people, making his way to the stairs in attempt to find a bathroom.

He opens a random door, cursing himself for standing there shocked, unable to reach out and shut the door.

He's confused for a moment and he suddenly wonders if the fumes it self was enough to make you high and star hallucinating.

His brain was screaming at him to leave, but his body stayed, motionless.

An address flashed in his mind, and he suddenly knew why the numbers on the door looked familiar.

It was the same numbers on the paper he had thrown away.

His heart ripped.

Is this why she wanted him to come? So he can stand by powerless, much like he was doing now, as she fucked some stranger for drugs or money – much like _she_ was doing now.

It wasn't until some girl shoved him away from the door and cornered him against the wall did he finally tear his gaze away from Clary and that guy going at it. But still, the image wasn't fading from his head.

"You're a little perv," She said grinning, "Does that turn you on?" He voice is soft and sultry and her hands roam his body over his clothing. "Do you like watching other people?"

Before he can even answer, her lips were pressed against his own; her tongue sliding in forcefully.

He couldn't find it in himself to push her away, so he stayed still and let her assault him, grope him, and molest him even.

His eyes shut and he doesn't know how long they were like this. It felt like hours but it could have been mere minutes.

"Move, slut." It's Alec's voice and it's completely out of character. But Jace was glad, nevertheless, for Alec coming to his rescue.

The girl doesn't move until Alec grabs her shoulders and shoves her aside.

Jace doesn't say anything, he barley glances back at the girl as he follows Alec out the house and into the car.

Jace wants to ask about the sudden shift in mood, but thinks better of it.

Alec rolls his window all the way down before lighting up a rolled paper. He offers Jace one, and this time, he takes it; letting the smoke fill his lungs before he exhaled.

Its quiet for a while, not even the radio is on.

Then Alec confesses: "I saw Magnus."

Jace looks over at him, surprise clear on his features.

Alec laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world, "He was with some blonde _girl_." He turns his head to Jace, leaning closer to his side, "I can't believe," His voice was softer now that he was calmer. It was barley a whisper. His eyes were glossy, either from the drugs or actual tears, "That I ever thought I had a chance."

Jace doesn't know what to say – how to react. Once upon a time, he probably would have known what to do, but in all honesty, he was probably more fucked than Alec.

But Jace didn't have to say anything. Alec's hand was placed on the side of Jace's cheek, pulling their faces closer, until their lips touched.

And Jace stayed perfectly still. Because Alec was high, and Jace was numb. Because for some reason, Alec wanted this, and for some reason, Jace felt it was the least he could do to help his friend.

But for the third time that day, he found himself wishing that the lips what were pressing on to his own were Clary's instead.

* * *

**Have I ever told you I have no clue what I'm doing and where this is going?**

**Well... yea I still have no clue what's going on... lol**

**But feed back is appreciated!**

**Thank you for reading! and also, this chapter was inspired by Breakeven by The Script**

**=)**


	4. Wicked Games

**WICKED GAMES**

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Alec was first to pull away. He looked away, but not shameless.

Jace glanced at the window. He wasn't uncomfortable. Alec would always be his best friend and not even a kiss could change that.

"I'm sorry." Alec said. But he wasn't – not really.

Jace nodded his head, "It's okay." And maybe it really wasn't.

Neither of them said a word. They stared through the glass shield of the car; Alec staring at the lights illuminating the dark streets and Jace watching water drip, childishly seeing which drop would make it to the bottom first.

A heavy sigh left Jace and he opened the door. Alec guessed that it wasn't as okay as his friend had let on.

But that thought subsided when the drivers side door opened up and Jace was tugging Alec out, "Let me drive."

Alec nodded his head and headed to the passenger side. Jace tapped on the steering wheel as Alec placed his seatbelt on.

"I'm sorry about Magnus," Jace finally said.

Alec opened the glove department and pulled out a Black&Mild. He rolled down the window before he lit one up.

Jace started the car as the sweet scent started filling the air.

They rode in silence. It was a different silence than before. The radio wasn't on and a heavy weight was hovering over them.

Jace paid close attention to the roads –it kept his mind off of her and what he had witnessed. What _she_ made him witness, weather it was intentional or not.

When he finally stopped the car, Alec turned to him, "I'm sorry about Clary."

Jace nodded stiffly. _Touché._

"I saw her there," Alec admitted. He rubbed at his red eyes, "When did everything turn out so fucked?" He wondered out loud.

Jace shrugged. He was thinking the same thing.

Alec heaved a sigh before getting out of the car. Before closing the door he tells Jace to have his car back by the morning.

As soon as the door closed, Jace drove off.

He groaned halfway down the road. He should have stayed back to make sure Alec got in safe. But as if reading his mind, a text sounded. He checked it at a read light and it was just Alec saying he was home, about to knock out.

The green light shone and Jace pulled off the breaks driving until he stopped at a familiar building.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Simon's not here." Isabelle said as soon as she picked up.

"I know," he replied.

A beat of silence passed between them.

"Are you outside?"

"Yea."

Minutes later, Isabelle was walking towards her brother's car, dressed in a red nightgown with a trench coat thrown over and converse she slipped on – not in true Isabelle fashion, but it was the middle of the night so fuck being presentable.

She opened the door and slid in. She wrinkled her nose at the left over sweet smell from Alec's previous smoke.

"You don't look so hot." She commented, shrugging off her jacket and rolling up the window.

She dug into her coat pocket as Jace replied, "Shit day."

She pulled out a small orange collared prescription bottle. She sprinkled out two circular pills and held her hand out to Jace.

He hesitated before taking the little bright blue pill from here.

He never popped pills. The worst he's done was smoke or drink or sometimes even both.

His fingers shook slightly.

Then he remembered Clary –_his _Clary. And he remembered what happened hours ago. And he swallowed the pill without tasting it.

Isabelle turned on the radio and lowered the volume.

Five songs played until she said, "Simon deserves better."

And Jace rolled his eyes because he was _so_ done with everyone – his self included – and their relationship, or lack there of, problems. "Shut up."

She frowned, "Way to be a dick within your second sentence."

"I didn't call you talk about our feelings."

Isabelle played with her nightgown, which was some sort of satin that barely reached mid thigh. She sighed, "But I'm no good for him," She went on.

Jace looked at her. His eye was dilated, whether from the drugs or the dimness, neither of them knew nor cared. "You're right. Simon deserves someone better." There was no point in denying the truth.

And she expected nothing less from Jace.

"I've been bad, huh?"

He smirks blandly and reaches out a hand to her. She places her cold hands on his and he pulls her over the center console. She tosses a leg over; straddling him and her other hand is placed over his shoulder.

The satin rises, revealing more of her creamy legs. She runs her finger up his neck to the nape of his hair, fingering his golden locks.

His hand moves to hold her hips. They travel up the silky material, tracing her curves, sending goose bumps all over her skin. His thumbs graze her just beneath her bust.

He frowns when he feels her rib bones, "You shouldn't purge Izzy."

She grabbed his face. Her dark eyes staring into his golden ones, "You shouldn't tell me what to do Jace." And she dips her head; her tongue colliding into his mouth before their lips even met.

One of his hands slide down to her hips, the other hand plays with her strap. Both of her hands are at his face tugging him closer to her.

She leans further into him, her body pressing into his.

He pulls the strap down to reveal one of her breasts. His thumb slides over her nipple, hardening it further as he flicked against it.

She moaned into his mouth, biting down on his lips. Her hips moved reflexively, crashing into his own hips

Her hands trail down his shirt, feeling his muscles contract beneath her fingers. She reached is belt, unbuckling it.

She pulled him out, working her hands on him. He groaned into her mouth and dug his nails into her hips and squeezing her breast simultaneously.

She cried out in at his reaction. His hands moved to bunch up her nightgown and push them above her her hips.

She wasted no more time as she pulled her lacy panties to the side and slid him into her.

They both groan at the intimacy. She starts moving her hips up and down, using his shoulders as leverage as she tossed her head back.

His lips were stung swollen. He watched as her nightgown dropped lower revealing her other breast, them both bouncing up and down with the rhythm. He gripped her waist tightly, guiding her up and down faster and faster.

Maybe it was his subconscious, or maybe it was the drugs, but instead of Isabelle's dark hair, he was seeing Clary's red curls. And that fueled him as he started moving his own hips, banging into her harder with every thrust.

She let out moans and groans and a few choice words.

Then she called out Simon's name.

And Jace couldn't care less because he was mumbling out Clary's.

The windows were fogging up, the drugs were taking toll on them, and the music from the radio was foreign to them.

"Jace…" Isabelle mumbled. Not Simon anymore.

"Clary…fuck" Jace groaned, still lost.

Isabelle brought her head forward, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Her teeth grazed his skin before latching on and biting down, muffling her screams as she hit her high.

Jace came not long after, pressing into her skin hard enough to leave marks.

They both stayed still, breathing harshly and holding on to each other.

"When did everything turn out so fucked?" He mumbled out Alec's earlier words.

* * *

**Still have nooooo idea what Im doing...**

**Based off of Wicked Games by The Weeknd**

**I feel like this is my odd version of "skins" but seeing as I never even watched the show...**

**haha lol**

**Thanks for the reviews you guys!**

**sorry if I didn't reply, but if you REALLY want me to, add this: * to your review!**

**Also, on a side note, don't do drugs! or alcohol! or have sex with your friend's girlfriends! or kiss your straight guy friend after finding out your gay ex is actually bi!**

**and if you do have sex, use protection!**

**so thoughts on this?**

**also, check out (if your into moody, depressing, smutty stories) my fic, "How to Save a Life"**

**=)**


	5. Little Talks

**Little Talks**

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It's the morning after. Jace wakes up, momentarily stumped. He had actually spent the night – or the rest of it anyway – at home.

He found himself missing the crummy ceiling of the hotel.

He gets up, checking the time. Turns out its _not_ morning. Its mid day. Nearly two in the after noon.

He sighed, knowing he had to give Alec the car back.

Avoiding any thoughts of last night, from Clary to Alec to Isabelle and what happened between them, he pulls on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. Grabbing his phone as he slides on his sneakers, but then thinking better of it and leaving the cell on a table.

He rubs his eyes when he finally gets in the car. He groans because, what the fuck is he even doing with his life.

Last night should have never happened in any way shape or form.

And maybe it didn't. Maybe it was a dream.

Because Alec didn't _like_ him.

Because Magnus was into _guys._

Because Isabelle wasn't bad to Simon.

Because Clary wasn't a lady of the night. A prostitute. Same shit, one just sounds prettier.

But at a stop sign, in the corner of his eyes, he spots it. A yellow-orange pill bottle.

Yea.

He got high last night with Izzy. Which led to everything else being true too.

He banged his fists on to the horn angrily, scaring a crossing pedestrian all the while.

He picks up the pill and shoves them into his pocket before finally shifting the car to drive again.

He hated this car.

Alec had it since he was sixteen. And Jace borrowed it almost always.

And when Jace had it, he was rarely without Clary.

Now that he thinks about it, he sees traces of her every where. The scratch on the leather, the orange juice stain in the back – down to the fucking crack on the left side window in the back.

And he misses her.

Alec's is closer than he remembered. It's been a while since he's driven there from his own place.

Before turning into the drive way, he changes his mind – impulsive, he knows – and he finds him self making an illegal U-turn – but fuck the police, right?

Alec can wait another hour or so. He's probably shitfaced, watching Tom and Jerry right now anyway.

He tries remembering the way from last night.

Left turn there.

Right turn there

Or was it right then left?

Maybe it didn't matter and it was one of those houses that appeared when ever, where ever.

Those were strong pills. It's been over twelve hours and Jace still feels shit crazy.

Finally, finally, finally.

Finally.

Those numbers show up. The ones Clary wrote on that paper.

The house number.

Getting out of the car and walking up to the place that's obviously been clean since last night, dread and hope built up inside Jace. He wondered why he was torturing himself like this.

Praying to God she wasn't there

Hoping the devil didn't care.

He doesn't get to knock; the door already opens. Some blonde girl smiles.

"Is it a bit too early to be joining us?"

Jace blinks at here. This trick was high.

Or maybe he was

It didn't matter

He didn't care. He pushed passed her, entering the house he had no idea who it belonged too.

Fortunately, the colorful gay – bisexual? – Asian decided to saunter out of the kitchen, a mug of coffee (Jace assumed it was coffee anyway) in his hands.

"Camille, why did you let strangers in?" he mumbled

She groaned, "I'm not your maid, suck my dick Magnus."

"On the contrary my Dear, you can eat me." He said nonchalantly as she huffed, slamming the door as she left.

Magnus rolled his eyes at her.

Jace shifted uncomfortably.

This was a bad idea.

"Why are you here, Jace?" Magnus said sipping from his cup and leaning against the wall.

_You live here?_

_Who the hell is Camille? _

_Where's Clary?_

But he settled for, "Alec kissed me last night."

Jace stared at him, gouging his reaction. Nothing.

"That's nice. Did you enjoy it?"

"Could have used some chap stick. Tasted like rum and tobacco." What the hell was he saying? He didn't come here for this shit. He could give a fuck about Alec and Magnus right now.

"Clary's not here." Magnus said after a while. "She brought a guy here, fucked his brains out, shared a blunt, and sniffed some snow then left."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jace asked. He _had _wanted to know, but know that he heard it; he wished it wasn't even spoken.

"Because you should know. You're wasting your time coming here – searching for some druggie whore." He leaned off the wall and made his way up the steps.

"How could you say that? She's your friend for fucks sake," Jace stared at his retreating figure.

Magnus turned, "Think again Jace. She's _dead. _She's not the same Clary. And you know what? You're not the same Jace, I'm not the same me – none of us are who we were so many moons ago."

And it killed Jace, but Magnus was right.

"If you want to see her, I suggest the nearest corner," Magnus continued, "Make sure you have something to pay her with; she's not cheap, also shut the door on your way out."

"Why did you and Alec break up?" He asked without a second thought.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" Magnus stopped dead in his tracks, turning again to face Jace.

Jace wasn't one to pry or question anything, so maybe he _was_ trying to piss Magnus off. But he shrugs and waits.

A heartbeat passes between them.

Was it Jace's? Or maybe it was Magnus'. Both were beating loudly in their ears, rightfully of course.

"I miss our little talks," Jace finally offers an explanation.

Magnus sighs walking down the steps and handing Jace his untouched mug. It was coffee.

Black.

No sugar, Jace realized when he took a sip. He shuts the door and follows Magnus to the kitchen as he pours out another cup for himself.

Magnus missed their little talks too.

"I'll tell you our story, if you tell me yours. Take a seat, Blondie," he motions to a stool near the kitchen island.

* * *

**Little Talks by of Monsters and Men**

**'There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back  
Well tell her that I miss our little talks  
Soon it will be over and buried with our past'**

**So... I'm kind of curious: what exactly do you guys (the few of you that ore not 12.9 years old and actually understand whats going on in this fic) think will happen? or what would you like to happen?**

**=)**


	6. Who Are You Now?

**Who Are You Now?**

**.**

**.**

A chuckle leaves his mouth. Of course Magnus would try to bargain.

"She didn't tell you?"

Magnus' smile is tight. His eyes are taunting. "Jace, we don't talk. Not anymore at least."

Jace glances away. Of course they don't talk.

Who the hell was she anymore?

Who the hell was _he_?

When Jace doesn't say anything, Magnus sighs, "Our story is very mediocre compared to yours."

"You would assume that." Jace mumbles, swallowing the coffee as if it was water.

An eyebrow is raised and Magnus was tired. So much for their little talks if neither wanted to speak.

It feels like hours, maybe even days. But it's barely a few seconds.

"She left me," Jace finally says.

Magnus grins just slightly, "With charming you?"

The blonde boy glanced at him, unwavering but slightly unnerving. "She left me with nothing but a note."

She had just upped and left. The words: _I can't do this anymore_, Imprinted in his mind forever and shit, it killed him not knowing why.

Was it something he'd done? Anything he said?

Looking back, he should have picked up the signs, right?

She had been distant for the longest.

But she couldn't say it to his face.

"How classy," Magnus drawled. Tempted to ask what it had said, yet, he wavered and sighed instead, "Do you at least know why?"

Jace shook his head, glaring into his empty glass. He wished there was something stronger that coffee in there. Something that would burn his insides and numb him all at once.

"Let me guess, you know, don't you?" His tone wasn't accusatory. Hell, Jace wasn't sure when was the last time he even dared lace his voice with any sort of emotion. But still, why had Magnus even bothered asking if he already knew?

Jace figured he was stalling, not wanting to explain his own tragic story.

"She fell in love and she was scared." Jace was slightly surprised when he heard Magnus speak. It was odd how often he was beginning to zone out. It almost irked him. But then he found it in him not to care.

He just _couldn't_ care anymore.

Caring about Izzy, Alec, maybe even Simon and Magnus – hell, even Clary herself – it was enough for him. He could barely handle them, why add himself?

"Quit bull shitting me Bane. She had told me she loved me before, although I don't quite understand if any of it was real or not anymore."

That same monotonous tone was bothering Magnus more than he would admit, and although he was the one who said it earlier, it really hit him how much they _changed_.

"She fell in love," Magnus continued, getting up and pouring out the rest of his coffee down the drain, finding it hard to keep it down, "with the thought of being with you." He pulled open a drawer and found a pack of Camel Light. He pulled out a stick and broke off the filter, lighting it up at the stove and before placing it in his mouth, he said, "When it finally happened, she ran."

Jace frowns because none of that made sense to him.

"You're talking shit again," He sighed. "How did any of that even lead to her being a prostitute?"

Magnus shrugged, "Try asking your brother."

"Alec?"

"Your real one."

"Magnus…" Jace trailed off unsure of what was going on anymore. Magnus was clearly faded and attempting a slow suicide with his unfiltered cigarette.

The elder boy wiped at his eyes hastily and it was then Jace had noticed Magnus Bane had shed a few tears.

"You should have fought for her Jace," Magnus said.

Frowning, he replied, "I didn't realize I had anything to fight for…"

The Asian boy shook his head, "Fuck, Jace you had _everything _to fight for, and while you were being oblivious and blissed, she was hurting and silently begging you to care."

"Magnus," Jace finally stood up, "What the hell are you talking about – how the hell do you even know any of this?" _Besides_, Jace thought, _I always cared for her._

Magnus ran his free hand over his face tugging at his colored locks and he let out a frustrated groan, half in despair, half in defeat, "Because, Blondie, I was there. She thought you didn't care and she left." He sighed glancing at Jace, inhaling the murky fog, "Don't give me that condescending look, like I should have told you because dammit, you should have known."

Jace couldn't take this anymore. All this new information ate at him and made him feel guiltier than he had been.

But what the hell had Clary been hinting at him? What happened? Why didn't she just tell him?

"Sit down," Magnus ordered. And Jace complied.

"I broke up with Alec because he was in love with his best friend." He let that sink in for a moment. Jace should have been surprised. "And from the looks of it," He glanced down at Jace lips, _Alec kissed me last night_, riveting in his head, "He's still in love with you."

"He thinks he is. He's just broken, searching for a fix."

They were _all_ broken, searching for a fix.

Jace lost count of how many times it grew silent between them. It was starting to get ironically deafening and unbearable.

What was Magnus thinking about?

But it turns out, Maybe Jace _doesn't_ actually want to know. He just wanted someone to talk. Something to fill the silence.

Finally, Jace got up and made his way to the door, his half done drink now lukewarm, stayed on the table. Alec would be expecting his car soon.

"Why didn't you fight for what you want?" Jace asked softly as he reached the front door. Before he pulled it open, Magnus wondered who he was talking to; himself or to Magnus directly.

Either way, it was a question neither of them could answer because it crossed neither of their minds until their downward spiral. Until now.

* * *

**What :)The :) fuck :) am :) I :) Doing :)? **

**I have no clue where this is going**

**honestly**

**So sorry If you have no clue what is going on and if my writing seems scrambled...**

**This is the most unplanned thing I've ever written (next to The Real Volturi)...hope it all ends well...**

**The song for this chapter is Who Are You Now by Sleeping with Sirens**

**P.s why are punk people so good looking? I mean, they're not exactly my type, but shit, they're easy on the eyes. Piercings and tattoos infatuate me IDK.**

**Yea, so drop a review **

**Any requests?**

**Anything you want to see happen in this story?**

**I might take it into consideration...seeing as I have no clue what I'm doing...**

**=) xx**


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